


After Hours

by pl2363



Category: Transformers Generation One
Genre: M/M, Oral Sex, Sticky Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-14
Updated: 2013-02-14
Packaged: 2017-11-29 06:30:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,244
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/683899
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pl2363/pseuds/pl2363
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Have some pwp! Written for the prompt left for me "prowl/optimus g1".</p>
            </blockquote>





	After Hours

**Author's Note:**

  * For [wicked3659](https://archiveofourown.org/users/wicked3659/gifts).



> Wrote this quickly over the last day or so, no beta and my grammar is horrid. *sorry*

Straddled over Optimus’ lap in his office chair, Prowl watched large, blue fingers trail over his curved chest. Prowl lived for these moments alone with his secret love. No one knew about what they did late at night in Optimus’ office, not even his best friend, Jazz. His fingers curled around Optimus’ shoulders, tightening their hold. Optimus circled his thumb over a headlight rim, then slid it over the smooth glass with just the right amount of pressure to cause a zinging sensation. Prowl sharply gasped in response.  
  
Optimus’ optics darkened in hue with his desire. Prowl reached up, his fingertips gliding over one of Optimus’ finials, eliciting a small moan. Prowl then leaned forward, capturing Optimus’ currently exposed lips with his own. What started as a reserved, soft-mouthed kiss quickly shifted to something more fierce. Their collective want for one another relayed by the dance of their tangled, hot glossae.  
  
This had never been Prowl’s intention. Over the their time together he’d developed an attraction to his leader, but carefully concealed his feelings. Being on Earth changed things between them, though. They’d spent long nights in this office, working on policy plans, dealing with the various disciplinary actions that cropped up, and sometimes just talking about their lives from before the war. Optimus was more open with Prowl than anyone else in the crew, so when he made his attraction known to Prowl late one evening, he finally felt safe revealing his own long-standing crush. From that exchange and their first kiss had come this: a secret relationship tended to late at night. Passion Prowl saved for Optimus was shared only when they were all alone in the office suite.  
  
Their kiss eventually broke.  
  
Prowl reached down, tracing the edges of Optimus’ interface array cover. Optimus responded, the cover snapping back. Prowl fingered the very much online spike between their bodies, his own valve twitching with anticipation. He carefully scooted off Optimus’ lap, getting on his knees between parted silver thighs. Leaning forward he flicked his glossa out, trailing up the rigid spike slowly. Optimus moaned, and leaned back against his chair, optics dimming.  
  
Wrapping his fingers around the base, Prowl’s mouth enveloped the head and he gave it a soft suckle. His glossa swirled over the end, gliding along the sensitive nodes that lined the large spike.  
  
A large hand rested over Prowl’s helm. “You are so beautiful,” Optimus murmured.  
  
Heat flushed Prowl’s faceplates in response.    
  
He shuddered his optics, concentrating on his task as he took in as much as he could of the spike, his hand squeezing the base before he began bobbing his head. Optimus’ vents huffed air in cycled bursts, matching Prowl’s quickly established rhythm.  
  
“Prowl,” Optimus said. half groaning he tried to speak.  
  
Intensifying his efforts, Prowl picked up his pace, the hot, erect spike sliding in and partway out of his wide open mouth. Optimus’ thighs tensed on either side of him. He was about to come--  
  
“Prowl.” Optimus sat forward. “Stop. Please.”  
  
Sitting back on his heels, Prowl’s lips let go of his prize and he shifted his gaze to meet with Optimus’.  
  
Optimus sighed air from his vents in a soft-sounding hiss as he lightly ran the back of his fingers down Prowl’s cheek. “I don’t think I have it me for twice this evening.”  
  
“I see.” Prowl pushed to his feet, intending to crawl back onto Optimus’s lap, but was stopped by large hands on his hips. “Something wrong?” Prowl asked.  
  
Optimus shook his head and smiled. “Not at all.” He glanced past Prowl to his desk just behind where they were. “Would you mind lying back on the desk?”  
  
Prowl smiled a little. “Not at all.”  
  
Datapads were shoved to the floor in a clatter, making room for Prowl and his doorwings as he laid back. Optimus’ hands roamed down over Prowl’s curved frame, his gaze fixated on where his fingers moved. Being the center of attention like this made Prowl feel wanted and special. He normally existed on the edges, making schedules, making plans. Most of the crew found him cold or detached never questioning the ‘why’ behind his distance with most of them. Sending them off to fight and possibly die in battle weighed heavily on him and that distance became his coping mechanism. It was a burden only Optimus seemed to truly understand.  
  
Optimus took hold of his spike, rubbing it over Prowl’s closed cover. Prowl’s valve, already wet and eager, twitched again as he watched. Optimus smiled. “Open for me?”  
  
“Thought you’d never ask,” Prowl replied, the cover snapping back. Cool air washed over the exposed array.  
  
Optimus chuckled a little, fingers sinking into Prowl’s heated valve. They scissored and stretched the mesh walls, reading Prowl for the girth that was Optimus’ spike. Prowl dimmed his optics, focusing on the pleasure between his parted legs. They’d not had an evening together like this in a few weeks. Missions and duties taking precedence over their alone time.  
  
Fingers withdrew and Optimus’s spike slowly slid inside. Prowl groaned, rolling his head back against the desk. Optimus pulled on Prowl at the hips, dragging his aft just off the desk and fully impaling him on his spike. Prowl squeezed his knees against Optimus as his valve walls rippled against the lovely visitor.  
  
Optimus’ fingers curled possessively around Prowl’s hips as he began to rock himself in and out. Prowl quickly became a quivering mass on the desk, writhing and moaning. His entire sensory net felt like had been lit on fire. Each thrust sent a wave of heat and lust cascading through his systems. During these intimate moments, Prowl felt safe enough to let go. To let all the walls and barriers he usually kept up fall. No other mech was allowed to see him like this. Only Optimus.  
  
“So beautiful,” Optimus said, his voice husky and low.  
  
Through a hazy gaze, Prowl looked at Optimus and smiled.  
  
Reaching a fevered pitch, Optimus groaned as he pistoned him hips. Prowl’s fingers grasped at the desk on each side of where he lay as he arched his chest up. His body trembled, pushed to the very edges of climax. A few more deeply penetrating thrusts was all it took. Prowl’s body contorted and he groaned, overloading. Pleasure blossomed within him, a rare sensation he reveled in.  
  
Optimus continue to chase after his own release, small grunts escaping his vocalizer as he intensified his efforts. Prowl’s valve was hot and sensitive, quivering around Optimus’ invading force. Finally, Optimus overloaded as well, roaring as he threw his head back and his spike exploded inside Prowl.  
  
There was something truly beautiful about seeing Optimus not as a leader, but as a mech. Prowl loved the sensation overloading provided, but he also loved seeing Optimus so undone and raw.  
  
Grabbing at the desk with one hand to steady himself, Optimus slid free of Prowl. He tiredly smiled as he canted his head and offered the other hand. “Need a help up?”  
  
Prowl graciously took it, sitting up. Their faces hovered close and he lightly touched their noses. “I think this meeting was highly productive.”  
  
Optimus snorted a laugh. “I would tend to agree with that sentiment.”  
  
Prowl kissed the tip of Optimus’ nose. “I could certainly benefit from more meetings like this one.”  
  
Optics shimmering, Optimus tipped his head to press a kiss to the center of Prowl’s chevron. “I’ll task you with setting that up.”


End file.
